


That Little Guy From Brooklyn (I'm Following Him)

by highadventure



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame Fix-It, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Gen, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Fix-It, Steve Rogers Feels, TW: Body dysmorphia, america's ass, tw: suicide ideation, we do not speak of the mass murderer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 13:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19870648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highadventure/pseuds/highadventure
Summary: “I know where it is, but it won't be easy to get it,” Nebula’s voice rose over the heated discussion. With the six stones scattered all over the galaxy and across multiple timelines, acquiring them successfully would be a goddamn miracle. Looking at how small the current heist team (as Scott was calling it) was, there was really no room for error. The Soul Stone was particularly challenging because there was hardly any information on it.“Where is it?” Steve returned without hesitation.A STEVE FIX-IT THAT ALSO BECAME A NAT FIX-IT SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was initially written for a fic exchange with a good friend but honestly, this fix-it was really written for myself. And for all the Steve Rogers fans out there who had to suffer through the canon ending. 
> 
> It's also based on a headcanon I saw on tumblr so credit to peterssquill, stevechoosesbucky, and tygermama!
> 
> Enjoy!

“I know where it is, but it won't be easy to get it,” Nebula’s voice rose over the heated discussion. With the six stones scattered all over the galaxy and across multiple timelines, acquiring them successfully would be a goddamn miracle. Looking at how small the current heist team (as Scott was calling it) was, there was really no room for error. The Soul Stone was particularly challenging because there was hardly any information on it.

“Where is it?” Steve returned without hesitation.

“It's on Vormir,” Nebula answered shortly.

“Well? What are we waiting for then? I'll drive.” Rocket stood with the keys to the Guardian’s spaceship.

“Not so fast, Fox-face. You can't just walk into Vormir and grab it. The Soul Stone requires a sacrifice. A soul for a soul.”

For the first time since the planning discussion started, the entire room fell silent. Everyone was thinking it, but no one wanted to say it out loud.

“Like… someone has to… die?” Scott spoke quietly from his seat, gaze slowly making his way to Nebula.

“I don't know the specifics but I know that my father went to Vormir with my sister and came back with the stone but without her,” Nebula replied with the same monotonous voice. If not for the way her body stiffened slightly, Steve would not have been able to tell how much the past had affected her.

He knew all too well how it felt to lose a brother. _Brothers_. Steve let himself feel a pang of grief for her before he steeled his voice again. “It doesn't matter. Whatever it takes.”

Nebula looked up at Steve, gaze piercing.

“Before anyone volunteers, it's going to be me. The rest of you just focus on getting the other stones,” Steve said resolutely.

There were sharp intakes of breath from around the room, Tony looked pained while Thor looked downright nauseous. Nebula’s face remained unchanged.

It was Natasha who broke the silence. “Steve…”

Steve gave a small assuring smile. “Nat, it's going to be okay. It has to be done.”

A sliver of agony broke through the blank, composed mask Natasha kept on at all times before she schooled her features, expression once again unreadable. “If you're going then I'm coming with you,” Natasha said.

Before Steve could retort, Natasha spoke up again. “It's not up for discussion. You're not the only stubborn one, Steve.”

The rest of the meeting proceeded without any hiccups after that. The planning itself was easy. Execution on the other hand… Steve shook his head a little, physically clearing his mind of any doubts. It was going to work. It had to. He didn’t know what he would do if it didn’t. 

***

Stepping off the spaceship, Steve let out an awed noise. It didn't matter that this might be his final resting place, Vormir was a sight to behold. It was beautiful, in a mysterious, eerie sort of way. Natasha landed with a soft thud next to him, already on high alert. “Ready to go, Rogers?”

Steve gave a curt nod before leading the way forward. Vormir was mostly barren land but in the distance, a formidable mountain could be seen. It took close to 40 minutes on foot to get to the bottom of the mountain before they were greeted by spirals and spirals of badly-formed steps at the side of the mountain that looked like it had been formed naturally.

Wasting no time, Natasha made quick work of the first few steps. Steve let her lead while he kept a close distance behind her. It continued like that for another minute before Natasha’s voice filled the silence.

“You don't always have to make the self-sacrifice play you know. Whatever happened to ‘We don't trade lives’ huh,” Natasha referred to Steve’s own words to Vision back when they were still in Wakanda. “Or do lives only matter when they are not yours, Steve?”

Steve faltered in his step slightly before quickly returning to his previous speed. She had hit the nail on the head and yet, “It's not that. Everyone in that room has something to lose. I don't. I’m the obvious choice for this mission.”

This time it was Natasha who stopped in her tracks and spun around to look Steve directly in his eyes.

“What do you mean you have nothing to lose?” Challenge laced her words.

Steve knew his decision was the right one and willed himself not to wither under Natasha’s intense gaze. “I don't have any family left. Most of them do. I'm a man out of time, it doesn't matter if I’m taken out of this time continuum,” Steve gave a one-shoulder shrug.

“Bullshit,” Natasha replied vehemently. “You have us, Steve. Me, Sam, Bucky, and all of the younger Avengers who have joined in the last five years.”

When Steve kept quiet, Natasha took it as an opportunity to continue.

“Sure they may be dusted now, but isn't this mission about bringing them back? What's the point if you won't be around to see them come back?”

“The point is that they will be alive and well. That's all that matters.”

Natasha looked like she had more to say but something in the way Steve stood made her swallow her words, lips set into a grim line as she continued up the steps. Steve was nothing if not stubborn. If Natasha needed to be convinced of his decision, he was ready to argue all day. He wasn’t going to let anyone else take the fall, literally, as he pieced together the spirals of stairs and what was implied at the steep cliff right at the top.

The rest of the ascent was made in relative silence, with the occasional grumble of how the stairs never seemed to end and why couldn’t they have just landed their spaceship at the peak of the mountain instead. Steve was mostly left to his own thoughts, Natasha’s words still ringing in his head. He truly felt like he was all alone after emerging from the ice twelve years ago, a man stuck in the 1940s while the world continued to move on without him. When he woke up, they said they had won the war. But they didn’t say what they had lost. What _he_ had lost.

And the answer to that was _everyone_.

When Steve woke up in 2011, almost everyone was gone. All of the Howling Commandos were gone even before he had been pulled from the ice wreckage. Some of them having lost their lives during their service in SHIELD while the others had passed away of old age.

One of the few items that SHIELD had handed to him a week after he emerged from the ice was a stack of manila folders detailing the lives of the Howling Commandos after he had gone down with the Valkyrie. With every folder he opened, his heart continued to sink as he kept seeing the jarring red ‘DECEASED’ stamped next to the Howlies’ names. By the time he got to Peggy’s file (which was significantly thicker than all of the Howlies’ put together), he had lost all hope. But to his surprise, instead of the bold red words, Peggy’s had been a navy blue stamp that read ‘RETIRED’ instead. He had copied down the address of the nursing home she was residing at and took the next flight out to Winchester.

The last file had been Bucky’s. It was almost empty compared to the thick file that documented Peggy’s life. This didn’t surprise Steve and he knew they gave him the file out of respect more than anything since there hadn't been more to add to the file considering how Bucky was gone even before Steve went into the ice. Bucky, his best friend since childhood, whom he could always count on to watch his six. Bucky, whom he didn’t manage to save the first time. Bucky, whom he found out, in 2014, had survived the fall from the train back in ‘45. Bucky, whom, five years ago, he had watched turn into dust right in front of his eyes.

In the twelve years since he had emerged from the ice, Steve had also managed to form new relationships. There was Natasha, whom he got closer to since working in SHIELD together, though their friendship only truly solidified when they worked together to take down Hydra that had been disguised as SHIELD. Out of all the Avengers, he would never have expected to be closest to the super-spy, and yet now he couldn’t imagine not having her in his life. Her faithful presence next to him in the battlefield spilled over into his personal life, constantly reminding him (grumpily) to stop being an idiot and to learn how to accept the help of his teammates. She even went as far as setting him up on blind dates, which he had shot down even before she could set an actual date.

He had met Sam during his daily morning runs back in DC. Sam was the first friend that Steve had made outside of the Avengers and SHIELD. When they first met, Sam hadn’t spoken to Steve like he was some kind of untouchable National Icon despite knowing exactly who he was. He didn’t shy away from topics that others had deemed too sensitive to ask Captain America, instead asking regularly about Steve’s life before and during the War. Sam was one of the few individuals who had treated him like he was Steve Rogers the man, not just Captain America the symbol of hope. Over the years, they had bonded over similar experiences in the Army, their mutual love for Thai food, and (surprisingly) video games. Sam had been dragged into the Avengers business after the fall of the Triskelion, but the friendship between the two of them had already been established based on things beyond the responsibilities of being an Avenger.

 _Damn it_ , Steve thought. Natasha was right. His biological family might not be around anymore and neither were his brothers in arms from the War. But he still had a family. _They_ were his family now.

Steve snapped out of his thoughts just as they rounded a corner of boulders, where a black hooded figure stood a couple of feet in front of them, face obscured by the thick hood. Natasha had already drawn her pistol, aimed at the face of the figure. Steve reacted just as quickly, shifting into an offensive stance.

“Welcome Natasha, daughter of Ivan,” the hooded figure said in a slight German accent, before turning to Steve, “Steven, son of Sarah.”

“Who are you?” Natasha said as she walked forward carefully.

“Consider me a guide… to you… and to all... who seek the Soul Stone.”

Natasha continued to point her gun at the hooded figure. “Oh good,” Natasha said sarcastically, “you tell us where it is then we’ll be on our way.”

“Oh _Liebste_ , if only it were that easy,” the hooded figure replied sardonically as he stepped closer to the pair, hood falling back slightly so that it was no longer covering his face.

Steve let out an audible gasp, “Schmidt?”

“I see we meet again, Captain.”

Steve’s head was spinning in disbelief. How was this son of a bitch still alive?

“How are you still alive? I killed you on the Valkyrie.”

“You did not kill me. I was cast out by the Stone. It banished me here, guiding others to a treasure I cannot possess,” the Red Skull turned away and stalked forward, leading Steve and Natasha past the two stone pillars and stopped in front of the steep cliff. “What you seek lies in front of you… as does what you fear.”

“What’s this?” Steve asked, knowing very well what it implied.

“The price. Soul holds a special place among the Infinity Stones. You might say it has a certain… wisdom.”

“Of what?” Natasha asked.

“In order to take the Stone, you must lose that which you love. A soul… for a soul,” Red Skull continued.

There it was. The ultimate sacrifice.

Steve turned to Natasha who was still staring down the edge of the cliff, probably calculating how high the drop was. “Nat,” he started as he took a step closer to her. 

“I just want to say that I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m an asshole who’s still stuck in the past and I’ve taken you and Sam for granted. You guys _are_ my family, and always will be. You’ve helped me through some of my darkest times and covered my ass in battles more times than I can count,” Steve said with a soft smile on his face while Natasha let out a small hum.

“Well, it is _America’s_ ass after all,” Natasha quipped.

Steve let out a surprised laugh despite the situation before he continued. “Which is why… I have to go through with this.” The small smile that was on Natasha’s face dropped instantly.

“It’s not just about who has more to lose anymore,” Steve said, “Like you said, you guys are my family, and you know I would do anything to protect you, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, and all the other young Avengers we have adopted along the way. I need you to be safe. I need you to lead the Avengers through this mess.”

Before Natasha could retort, Steve held up his hand to stop her.

“I may be the ‘leader’ of the Avengers, but Nat, you’re the one who keeps us together. The team would fall apart without you. When this is all over, they’re going to need you to pick up the pieces and keep the team going. Whoever’s left of it anyway,” Steve was in no way deluded that everyone was going to make it out of this battle with Thanos unscathed.

Natasha, who had been silent as she let Steve ramble on, finally broke. “Steve…” The agony in her voice apparent on her face this time round. She wasn’t masking any of her emotions right now. Natasha showing her true emotions was so rare that Steve’s own heart clenched in response to her blatant display of pain.

“The reason why I insisted on coming along with you is because I’m gonna be the one who will get you that Soul Stone,” Natasha confessed.

Steve balked. “What! No! No way! You must be out of your mind if you think I would let you throw yourself off this cliff!” He was shaking with anger just with the thought of Natasha sacrificing herself for a damn rock.

“Steve, I have so much red in my ledger… Let me do this,” she pleaded.

The righteous anger seeped out of Steve as quickly as it came. He took another step closer to Natasha and cradled her tiny face in his hands. She looked so small and so fragile, vulnerability clear on her face.

There was no way he was going to let her believe that she still owed the world something. This woman, who was like a sister to him, had saved his life more times than he had hers. She had saved countless lives during her time as a SHIELD agent, and this wasn’t even counting the lives she had protected while defending the world from alien invasions as an Avenger.

“Stop. Nat, you can’t actually believe that. Any of the time you spent in the Red Room was not your choice. You were groomed as a child to obey the commands that were given you. You were manipulated. Brainwashed. You can't be blamed for that. And all you have been doing since you broke out of their control has been about washing the red off your ledger. But you _don’t_ have red in your ledger.”

Tears started to stream down Natasha’s face and the pain that she had been holding in all those years was now evident on her face, clear as day. After taking a moment to process Steve’s words, Natasha shook her head, face still held lightly between Steve’s palms, like she would break if he held her any tighter.

“It’s not just about the Red Room. I've killed people. After my time in the Red Room, for SHIELD or Hydra, I’ve killed people. And I assure you, Steve, I knew exactly what I was doing,” Natasha scoffed lightly as she brought a hand up to wipe the tears from her face.

Steve let his hands fall back by his side and rested them on his hips. “And you think I haven't? I was born right out of a war. They literally _made_ me to kill. You could argue that I was fighting on the right side but those were still actual people that I've killed. People with families to go home to. Most of them were just boys called to serve their country. Even after coming out of the ice the fight still hasn't ended for me. Are you sure you want to compare ledgers with me?”

Natasha shook her head again in defiance but otherwise remained silent. _And they call ME stubborn_ , Steve thought to himself, a small affectionate smile on his face for his friend standing in front of him. _She's gonna be alright._

“Come on. Don't fight me on this.” Steve took a deep breath and let it out. “And if I’m being honest, I'm doing this for selfish reasons.”

Natasha, who had been looking down at her feet the whole time, finally lifted her head up to meet Steve’s gaze, urging him to elaborate.

“I'm so tired, Nat. I've been tired for a long time. The fight never seems to end and I'm tired of losing everyone again and again,” his thoughts immediately going to Bucky. “I know, I know I have you and Sam, and the rest of the Avengers now. But one day, I might lose you too. And I’m so tired of dealing with the same gut-wrenching grief and trying to move on all over again.”

Steve continued with a soft, sad smile on his face, “So please… Let me do this?”

“Steve…” Natasha’s voice barely a whisper, the pain so evident in her voice it broke Steve’s heart. It almost wavered his determination, wanting so badly to take the pain away for her. But, alas, it had to be done.

“Forgive me okay? And tell Bucky, Sam, and Wanda I love them,” Steve finished as he walked closer to the edge of the cliff. He could do this.

“Tell them yourself!” Natasha had thrown one of her Black Widow’s Bite at him, shocking him into stillness before she threw herself off the cliff.

 _Dammit Natasha!_ Thankfully, the supersoldier serum had allowed him to recover from the shock almost immediately before he lunged forward to grab Natasha just as her feet left the ground. He gripped her right arm and flung her backwards, using the forward momentum to push himself off the edge of the cliff.

He heard a groan from Natasha as he fell, presumably because she had hit the floor after he threw her backwards. Steve’s fall seemed to happen in slow motion and he heard another strangled shout of “STEVE!!!” before he descended into darkness.

_See you soon, mum._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, of course I included America's Ass into a Steve Fix-It fic.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...what now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recognise that Marvel has called it the blip. But given it's a stupid-ass name, I've elected to ignore it.

Steve opened his eyes slowly, feeling a dull ache all over his body. What? Was he in the afterlife now? He was vaguely aware that he was lying in a body of water, the chill seeping through his soaked clothes. Steve tried to sit up and instantly felt like something was very wrong. His whole body was aching and there was a tightness in his chest. Did he not die from the fall? As he looked down at his body to assess his injuries, the wind got knocked out of him.

His hands were roughly the same size, only skinnier and slightly more knobby. His arms were definitely different. Shorter in length and all the muscle mass that he gained after Project: Rebirth gone. A quick glance at his torso and legs also confirmed that they were a lot shorter and skinnier than he used to be. He was almost a bag of bones now, his protruding ribs visible through the wet shirt that was sticking to his body. Wait… Steve knew this body. He had spent the first 25 years of his life staring at it in the mirror, before he had undergone Project: Rebirth, wishing it would be enough to let him serve in the Army. What? How was he still alive? And why was he back in his pre-serum body?

“Captain…”

Steve turned around as he got up slowly. It was the Red Skull, still dressed in the same dark cloak. “Schmidt, what is this? Am I still alive? Is this still Vormir? Where is Natasha?” Steve croaked, voice feeling unused.

“I’m not sure…” Red Skull replied to this first question, uncertainty clear in his voice. “This has never happened before. Perhaps… the Soul had seen something in you.”

That still didn’t make any sense to Steve, but he had more pressing issues, “Where’s Natasha? Did she get the stone?”

“Your friend has been on her way, the Stone in her possession.”

Steve heaved a sigh of relief. That was what they had come for anyway. But what now? He was so sure that this mission would have been his last, he hadn’t bothered to think about what would happen next.

Red Skull’s voice shook him out of his thoughts. “How does it feel to have everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve taken from you?” He said, obviously referring to the difference in Steve’s physical body.

Taking a moment to think about his answer, Steve replied, “I guess I finally feel like myself again.”

***

When Steve blinked, he had suddenly been teleported from wherever the hell he was in Vormir to the front of the Stark Tower building. The sudden change in scenery had caused him to stumble slightly and left him reeling in confusion. What was happening and why was he back at the Stark Tower? Was the battle with Thanos over? Hadn’t the Avengers moved upstate to the Avengers compound?

A quick look around him suggested that the battle might indeed have been over. New York was back to its busy, bustling self, a stark comparison to how things had been right after Thanos had snapped half the population out of existence. Just how much time had passed since the mission on Vormir?

Standing in the middle of the sidewalk in front of the Stark Tower was probably not a good idea, which a passerby had generously reminded him with a rough shove to the shoulder. _Ah yes, the kind hospitality of New Yorkers,_ Steve scoffed internally as he quickly made his way to the entrance of the Stark Tower. Taking a deep breath which he then he let out shakily, he stepped through the glass doors that opened up to a large lobby. It looked like it was still business as usual for Stark Industries, with SI employees whizzing through the lobby, destination clear in their steps. Some had spared him a glance but had otherwise gone on their way. Steve walked straight towards one of the elevators that was tucked away in a corner, wondering if it still served the same purpose.

A small overhead light lit up as he approached the lift and instead of the usual ‘Up’ and ‘Down’ buttons to call for the elevator, a hand-print scanner was there in its stead. _So far so good then_ , Steve thought to himself. He held his breath as he placed his right hand on the scanner, hoping that Tony had not erased his biometric data from the system. When the elevator dinged and opened its doors, Steve breathed a little easier and stepped into the elevator.

“Captain Rogers?” Tony’s AI’s voice rang loud in the confined space. If AIs could sound confused, Steve would say that was exactly what FRIDAY had sounded like.

“Yes, it’s me, Friday. But you can drop the Captain, it’s just Steve now.”

“No problem, Steve. Would you like me to contact Boss and the rest of the Avengers about your arrival?”

“They’re in the building?” When FRIDAY had replied an affirmative, Steve continued. “Could you just bring me to the floor they are on? I think it would be a lot easier if I could explain it to them myself.” Not that he had any idea as to what was going on but seeing is believing.

“Certainly, Steve.”

After a few moments, the elevator had stopped at the 80th floor before it dinged again and the doors opened. _Was this still the Avengers common floor?_ Looking around the room, Steve was able to find out the answer for himself. Tony was seated on a barstool by the kitchen with a StarkPad in hand, Bucky and Sam were engaged in some muted conversation by the window and Steve was surprised to see Princess Shuri tinkering with some sort of tech on the coffee table.

Tony must have heard the elevator ding and was out of his seat in a moment, asking immediately, “Fri, who’s that malnourished child standing in the foyer?” Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He was a full-grown man, _thank you very much_. Before he could answer, Bucky had shot out of his seat by the window and had come barrelling towards Steve.

“Shit, Steve, didn’t you use to be bigger?”

Steve let out a loud scoff which turned into a wheeze midway. _Oh right, asthma_.

Bucky, who was already in front of him, had placed his hands on Steve’s shoulders and swiftly led him to the nearest chair. “Breathe, Stevie. In… and out…” Steve followed Bucky’s instructions automatically. “That’s it, just keep taking deep breaths for me.”

Bucky kept a steadying hand on Steve as he turned to somebody standing on his left and shouted urgently, “Get me a cup of hot coffee or tea!”

Steve, who could feel the tightness in his chest letting up, tried to assure Bucky. “Buck, I’m fine,” he muttered weakly.

Wrong move.

“Fine? FINE?” Bucky had exploded. “What do you mean you are fine, punk? Nat said you threw yourself off a damn cliff!” he bellowed. Steve winced outwardly, Bucky’s angry voice loud even when he was now deaf in one ear.

By that time, all of the Avengers who had been present in the room had formed a small circle around him. Sighing out loud, Steve took another deep breath just to make sure his mini asthma attack had really passed before he started, “Okay, just to be clear, I have no idea what happened either. One moment I was falling off a cliff in exchange for the Soul Stone and the next moment I was back in my pre-serum body, lying in some puddle of water… or at least I hope that was water,” his face contorted into an expression of disgust before continuing, “and then suddenly I was in front of the Stark Tower.” Steve had to take multiple breaks in that sentence just to make sure his lungs didn’t seize up again.

“Yeah pal, let’s go back to the part where you FLUNG YOURSELF OFF A CLIFF”, Bucky was obviously still furious at Steve and his self-sacrificing ass.

But Steve wasn’t about to back down.

“What would you have done if you were me, you jerk!” Steve replied as loudly as he could without triggering another asthma attack. “You know I would never have let Natasha take the fall instead. You should have heard the things she was saying about herself! Blaming herself! And you know that if Nat really did sacrifice herself, my stubborn ass would have rappelled down the damn cliff myself and demanded a do-over from Red Skull.”

“Wait wait, Red Skull?” Bucky interrupted.

Tony let out a low whistle, “Damn, Rogers’ got a potty mouth.”

Well. “S’not so hard when the whole world’s no longer judging your every move,” Steve shot back.

“Wait, so the Red Skull?” Bucky brought Steve back to the conversation at hand.

Steve waved his hand dismissively, “I don’t know, he’s like some sort of guide now. For the Soul Stone.”

“Okay, so you sacrifice yourself for the Soul Stone, but all it did was strip away Captain America, and you, back to your pre-serum body, just suddenly appear at the Tower a year after everything is over?” Sam managed to put together succinctly. 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Steve replied, “Wait, what? A year? It’s been a year since we tried to reverse what Thanos did?”

Bucky, who was a lot more subdued now, replied, “Yeah punk, you missed out on a lot.”

“The plan worked. Nat returned with the Soul Stone and we had managed to get the rest of the stones without any major hiccups. Bruce brought everyone back with another snap but Thanos had already caught up to us, bombing the Avengers compound to the ground,” Tony started. That explained why the Avengers had shifted back to the Stark Tower.

Princess Shuri, who had been silent so far, continued, “Dr Banner’s snap brought us back to exactly where we were in Wakanda. It was as if no time had passed. Dr Stephen Strange then appeared through a portal and warned us about the imminent battle. We had managed to gather everyone in time for the final battle with Thanos. It was a long fight and we lost a few comrades along the way,” her voice suddenly turning sombre before it lightened up again, “but most of us made it out alive.”

Sam picked up where Princess Shuri had left off. “Not too bad considering we almost lost too. We were very nearly overpowered until Captain Marvel literally swooped down from space to save our asses. Thanos had headbutted her and the woman didn’t even flinch, just held him down tighter. Tony and Wanda were able to keep him down while Carol pried the Infinity gauntlet off Thanos’ hand. Worn the freaking gauntlet herself before snapping all of Thanos’ army and him included, out of existence. Her arm didn’t even burn up from the impact of bearing all the stones.” The admiration clear was Sam’s voice, which was by all means justified too. _That woman was a badass_ , Steve thought.

The conversation slowly died down after everyone had traded stories and Tony had whisked him off to one of the medical floors to get a full-body check up, just to make sure there was nothing wrong with Steve. Well, besides the long list of pre-existing conditions that came along with Steve’s, smaller but still 100% him, body. Bucky had accompanied him since he had refused to leave his side, occasionally reminding Steve of how much of an idiot he was.

***

Steve had been resting in his own apartment a couple of levels above the common floor when Natasha burst through his apartment door. She hadn’t been around when he had first arrived at the Tower but he was guessing Tony notified her of his return after they had all confirmed that this tiny man really was indeed Steve Rogers.

He immediately stood up from his spot on the couch. It was clear that Natasha was livid as she made her way over to Steve, her steps were quick and light but the bubbling anger was visible in the way she stalked forward. She looked like she was about to punch him when she stopped right in front of him. Bracing himself for violence, Steve was taken aback when she pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. His face had fit snugly into the crook of her neck now that he was a few inches shorter than she was and it felt amazing.

“Do _NOT_ do that to me again, you hear me!” Natasha had whispered into the top of Steve’s head, breath still shaky with disbelief.

“I’m sorry Nat. Really, I am. But it had to be done. And hey! It looks like I won’t be going on another mission anytime soon so we should be fine!” Steve joked lightly, not sure how much he could push with how distraught Natasha had been.

Natasha pulled back though she kept her hands on his shoulders. “You’re an ass, Rogers, you know that?”

Steve laughed openly, “Well, it’s still a nice ass, even though it’s no longer America’s ass.”

This time, Natasha had laughed gently with him. After a moment of comfortable silence, she started again, “Hey Steve?” He brought his gaze back to her, sensing that she had something important to say. “About what you said right before you fell off the cliff…” Natasha trailed off.

He knew exactly what she was referring to. This time he initiated the hug first. “Oh Nat… I’m so sorry for what I said. I know what it sounds like. At that time maybe a part of me truly believed what I had said, but I also said it because I wanted so badly to convince you to let me take the fall.”

Natasha’s shoulder had started to shake but Steve pressed on. “More than that, I've also had time the past week to ponder about what has happened and how wrong I was to think in that manner. It's true that one day you, Sam, and the people I care about will leave this world but what I have with you guys now is worth any amount of grief I may experience in the future. Besides, without the supersoldier serum, I might be the first to go.”

 _That_ had triggered the violence from Natasha, who smacked Steve upside the head, albeit gently.

“What did I _just_ say? You are NOT leaving me again,” Natasha scolded.

Steve held up his hands in surrender before breaking into a smile and went back to hugging his friend. “Love you, Nat.”

“Love you too, you idiot.”

***

Bucky had insisted on cooking nutritious meals for him every night since he came back. Something about seeing Steve back in his pre-serum body must have triggered the mother-hen mode in him. But Steve had to admit, he was glad it was this mode that was triggered. It was hard to believe the man who was punching the living lights out of him on the helicarrier a couple of years ago, was now standing in his kitchen making soup.

Princess Shuri had pulled him aside one day to give him an update on Bucky’s health. The time Bucky had spent in Wakanda proved to be good for him as they had managed to break his conditioning, though his memories from before his time as the Winter Soldier were still a little bit fuzzy. Now the man standing in front of him was a mix of his childhood friend and a reformed assassin, but all Steve could see was his best friend. Not the kid from Brooklyn, or the soldier who tried to kill him, just a good man who had a hard life.

Which was why, after two weeks of strained friendships and tense atmosphere, Steve couldn't take it anymore. At first, he had chalked up Bucky’s strange behaviour to anger; anger that Steve had once again neglected his own life for the sake of others. But after explaining to Bucky why he _had_ to do what he did, and that the choice had been between Natasha and himself, Bucky had understood. He hadn't been happy about it but he had understood and eventually forgave Steve and his dumbassery. So Steve really had no idea why Bucky was still being so skittish around him, acting like a wounded cat every time Steve was near him.

And Steve was going to put a stop to this.

That night while Bucky was cooking dinner (chicken parmesan, one of Steve’s favourites) and actively tried to avoid making any conversation, Steve decided that enough was enough.

“Okay Buck, what is it? It's been more than two weeks and you still won't look me in the eyes for more than a minute. What’s going on? Just tell me.”

Bucky, who had been beating a bowl of eggs, froze mid-whisk, but still refused to engage Steve in the conversation.

“Come on, pal. Tell me. Is this about my body…? I know I've been giving you a lot of trouble again, with the asthma attacks and stomach ulcers but-”

“What? Steve, no,” Bucky cut him off, before he let out a resigned sigh.

He finally put his bowl of eggs down on the kitchen counter and turned around to face Steve, though he was looking at everywhere but Steve.

“It's not that… I…” Bucky started but couldn’t seem to continue.

Steve tried not to push but he really needed to know. He couldn't fix the problem if he didn't know what was wrong. “Bucky, you can tell me anything. You know that right?”

“I know… I just…” Bucky let out another sigh as he ran his fingers (the metal ones) through his hair in frustration. After a moment, he finally seemed to find the right words.

“Nat had told us what happened. What you said before you…” Bucky shook his head before continuing, “I know it had to be done. But damn it, Steve. Call me selfish but why did it have to be you? _Again_. I’ve barely had the chance to talk to you since Wakanda, me as my own person and not the brainwashed Winter Soldier, let alone say goodbye to you. _Again_. For good.”

 _Oh no_. Steve could see where this was going and he needed to rectify it immediately. But Bucky wasn't done.

“I had just broken my conditioning and only really started adjusting to a life outside Hydra after Banner snapped us all back into existence. Shuri’s been great… but I could have really used my best friend by my side,” Bucky choked out, voice breaking over the words ‘best friend’ as he tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

Bucky wasn't hurt that Steve had left, he was hurt that Steve had left _him_ , at a time when he needed him most. Steve had told Sam back when they first found out about the Winter Soldier that even when he had nothing he had Bucky. But now Bucky hadn't been able to say the same for Steve. _Shit_.

“No, Buck. Bucky. No. I’m so sorry. It was never my intention to leave you behind.” Steve had to choose his next words carefully. He knew his decision, in the context of the greater good, had been the right one. But still, he had hurt someone he loved, who also loved him, very badly.

“Buck, I spent a long time feeling like I was alone in this world when I emerged from the ice. And when I found out you were still alive, I was so happy. My best friend, my soulmate. Was alive. I wasn't alone anymore. So I made it my sole mission to rescue you from Hydra. And I did. But then shit happened.”

Anger slowly seeped into Steve’s words as he continued, “Thanos tried to kill half of our population, you included. And I was so angry. Angry for the world, angry for myself. Angry that I had to watch you get taken away from me again when I had just gotten you back. That mission to Vormir… it was about bringing the people back. But more than that, it was about bringing you back. I may not get to see you again but it was important to me that you got the chance to live your life again, a life outside of Hydra.”

He knew that no words could fix the damage his actions had done but he had to try. “Please Bucky, you gotta believe me when I say that I would never have intentionally left you behind. I know sometimes I dive headfirst into things without really thinking about the consequences, especially if the world’s at stake. But Buck, I would definitely have wanted to stand alongside you as you find your footing in the world again.”

Bucky, who had been sniffling somewhere in the middle of Steve’s impromptu speech, was full-on crying now.

Steve walked towards him and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s midsection, over his arms. His own shorter arms had barely been able to join together behind Bucky’s back, now that he was so much bigger than Steve. Bucky let himself be held for a long moment before he returned the hug.

They stood like this for a good five minutes, Bucky still silenting crying as he tilted his head down to lean his forehead on Steve’s shoulder, tears seeping onto his shirt. Steve’s neck had started to ache after awhile, with the way he was holding his head up, but dang it if Steve wasn't gonna be the best friend he could be for Bucky from now on. If Bucky needed the hug to last an hour or _five_ , Steve would give it to him.

After another minute, Bucky broke the silence. “Alright, alright, enough mushy crying. Let me get back to dinner.”

Steve grinned. _Yeah, they were gonna be alright._

_***_

The Captain America shield had been mounted on one of the walls of his apartment. Tony probably had one of the employees install it after they realised that he was never coming back. But surprise, he _did_. Though he was in no condition to ever use it again, and neither did he want to.

Digging through his closet, Steve found what he was looking for. A dust-covered black cymbals case that he had used to carry the shield around. Giving it a good shake, Steve shoved the shield inside and slung it over his shoulders. _Dammit_ , he never realised how heavy it was.

Lugging it towards the elevator, he called for FRIDAY to bring him to the 87th floor.

Sam’s apartment had been identical to his in terms of the layout, but it looked way more lived-in, pieces of Sam’s personality found in every corner of the apartment. The couch was a beautiful dark grey suede with a thick, white afghan thrown over the back of the couch. The coffee table was strewn with copies of National Geographic and Sam’s favourite bomber jacket was hung over a chair by the dining table.

“Sam?” Steve leaned the cymbals case against the back of the couch as he called out to the seemingly empty apartment, though Marvin Gaye was playing softly in the background.

“Be right there!” Sam’s voice wafted from one of the rooms.

Several moments later, Sam emerged from his study room holding a stack of books in his hands, looking comfortable in a white tee and soft sweatpants. “Hey Steve! What's up?”

Steve took a seat on the couch, which felt as comfortable as it looked, before he started. “Nah, I’ve just been meaning to ask you how things were down at the VA.”

“Oh! Things are good, even though we’re a little short handed at the moment. The VA has started to do some outreach beyond just veterans after the snap. There’re a lot of people who still struggle even after their friends and family who got dusted returned. It’s just not something you can get over when you lose all your loved ones in an instant, even worse for those who watched them disappear right before their eyes.” A frown was etched on Sam’s face as he shared with Steve what the VA was dealing with at the moment.

“What’s up though? Why the sudden curiosity?”

“I’ve been thinking since I came back that though I may not be able to get back onto the field anymore, I still wanna find an area where I can serve the people. As Steve Rogers, and not Captain America. The VA sounds like the perfect place. What do you think?”

“Steve, that sounds amazing! I know you’re gonna help so many people. You always had a way with speeches y’know,” Sam teased. Back when they were taking down Hydra, Sam had been one of the first to make fun of Steve’s ability to come up with amazingly inspiring speeches on the spot. And yet, Sam’s eyes always shone bright by the end of every said speech.

“The only thing bumming me out is the fact that we now have to live in a world without Captain America,” Sam continued with a sad smile.

And that was Steve’s cue. “This reminds me…”

He stood up from the couch and reached behind it, heaving the large casing over the back of the couch before setting it in front of Sam. He unzipped the bag and took the shield out. “Try it on,” Steve encouraged Sam.

Sam carefully took the shield from Steve, not struggling with the weight of it like Steve had when he was bringing it up from his own apartment. Sam’s eyes were glazed over with shock and surprise, and he looked like he wasn’t processing what he was doing until he slotted the shield over his left arm, strapped it into place, and held it in front of himself.

“How’s it feel?” Steve probed gently.

“Like it’s someone else’s,” Sam replied simply, though there was a myriad of emotions that flitted across his face, some too fast for Steve to even put a name to it.

“It isn’t,” Steve had replied just as easily.

Sam didn’t look convinced so Steve continued. “Sam, you’re one of the most compassionate men I know. Even after you left the Airforce, you hadn’t let what had happened with Riley harden your heart to the people who needed you, the country that needed you. When I asked for your help, you jumped back in without hesitation even though you got out for a good reason. You have never once backed down from a fight but you also never take unnecessary risks. You’re a good man, Sam. One of the best I know. There is no one else I trust more to pick up the Captain America mantle.”

He could tell that Sam was starting to seriously consider his proposition but still had something else on his mind. “But what about Bucky? He’s a heck lot stronger than I am and he has always been the guy that’s got your back,” Sam questioned.

The thing was that Steve _did_ consider Bucky. “I’ve thought about it. Bucky’s a good man and a great fighter, but he’s not going to be Captain America. Bucky’s still on the journey of discovering his own identity, what it means to be James Buchanan Barnes but to also carry the weight of what the Winter Soldier has done. Adding on the mantle of Captain America would only make it harder for him. Besides, Bucky’s always been more of the broody spy type anyway,” Steve ended off with a laugh. Imagining Bucky in that star-spangled suit had already made him realise his answer. 

“And when have you ever bailed on me? I trust you to watch my six as much as I do Bucky. Stop selling yourself short, Sam. You’re gonna be a great Captain America,” Steve gave a little pause before continuing. “So what do you say?”

Sam had remained quiet for a few short moments, staring at the shield on his arm before looking up. “Thank you,” Sam replied, sincerity and gratitude ringing in his clear voice. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s why it’s yours.”

***

The last five years hadn’t been the time to settle their grievances but now that the threat of Thanos was finally gone once and for all, Steve knew it was finally the right time.

When Steve headed to one of the SI labs in search of Tony, thinking that was where he would most likely be spending his time, FRIDAY had kindly informed him that Tony was, in actuality, in his and Pepper’s shared apartment. When the elevator reached the 95th floor, the doors opened up to a large open plan apartment. The lights were dimmed but Steve could see Pepper making a bowl of something (salad with gojis?) in the kitchen while Tony was seated at one corner on the couch, scrolling through his StarkPad with the television muted. Little Morguna was sprawled out on the couch, using Tony’s lap as a pillow while his other hand that was not holding the StarkPad rested protectively over her tiny hips, subconsciously preventing her from rolling off the couch.

“Hey,” Steve whispered, careful to keep his voice low in order not to wake Morgan.

“Hey Steve!” Pepper replied at her normal volume.

“Should I come back at another time?” Steve asked, not knowing if he should just head back to his apartment and try again tomorrow morning.

“No no, don’t worry about Morgan. Once she’s out, she’s out like a light,” Pepper answered as she made her way over to Tony, who was still scrolling but eyes had lost focus. Pepper scooped Morgan into her arms and started to walk towards one of the rooms. “You two can talk, I’ll tuck Morgan in and get some work done.”

Steve hadn’t even mentioned what he had been here for but it was like Pepper saw Steve coming to their apartment and just _knew_. Pepper had always been perceptive like that.

Tony hadn’t moved from his position on the couch so Steve decided to just settle in next to him, a couple feet from Tony. He had been planning for this conversation for a long time, even practised the words to say in the elevator just now as he made his way up, but suddenly when he was actually next to Tony, he didn’t know what to say.

Tony saved him the trouble of starting the conversation. “I know what you want to say, Rogers. But I rather not do this. Not now, not ever, so let’s just forget all about it alright? Water under the bridge and all that.” He had moved to get up but before he could turn away, Steve stopped him.

“Wait, Tony. Please.” Steve had wanted to grab on to Tony’s arm but thought better of it so he let his hand drop back onto his lap. Forgetting about the issue was not equivalent to forgiveness, though, and Steve was tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop. This was technically Steve’s second chance at life and he was going to do it right.

Tony sighed as he sat back down. He looked resigned to having this conversation with Steve but he didn’t look nearly as miserable as Steve thought he would. He was guessing that not only was six years a long time, Tony also became a father in that time. Tony had been a lot more subdued since tying the knot with Pepper, and even more so when Morgan was born, though he was still sometimes maniac in the way he spoke when he was on a science binge.

“I just want to apologise. For keeping the truth about Bucky and your parents from you,” Steve said, straight to the point before he continued. “You’re my friend, Tony. I should have trusted you enough to tell you. My judgement tends to be a bit clouded when it comes to Bucky. And at that time I told myself that I would tell you once Bucky had stabilized. I know it’s no excuse but I really am sorry about the way I dealt with the situation.”

He could hear another deep sigh from Tony who rubbed at his own face with both hands.

“You’re right, Steve. You not telling me was more upsetting than what Barnes had done, because if Rhodey had done what Barnes did to your mother, I sure as heck would have told you. Because I know that you would understand terms like ‘brainwashed’ and ‘POW” and I was more angry that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me.” Tony let out another sigh before he continued, “But I meant what I said earlier, it’s water under the bridge now. And I guess I’m also sorry, BUT ONLY SLIGHTLY, that I nearly killed you and your best friend. I just saw the footage of Barnes shooting my mother and lost it…” Tony trailed off.

To be totally honest, Steve was kind of in shock right now. He had expected the conversation to go like pulling teeth. Getting Tony to talk about his emotions and feelings like a normal person was harder than getting Luis (Scotty’s weirdly-perceptive-but-would-never-stop-talking friend) to shut up. And The Tony Stark apologising? Unheard of.

“Huh, you’re surprisingly okay with this. And talking about your feelings.” Whoop there goes Steve’s brain-to-mouth filter.

But Tony just laughed, patting Steve’s face lightly as he quipped, “Yeah yeah it’s been a long time, cupcake. And we both had a part to play in the mess. ‘Sides, Pepper wouldn’t marry me till I, quote ‘sort out your inability to deal with Emotions like a normal person’. Turns out getting a huge rabbit soft toy, that couldn’t even fit through the door, delivered to our home was not the way regular people showed appreciation.”

Steve chuckled. Count on Stark to execute a Big Romantic gesture by only remembering the Big but not the Romantic.

“And we have Morgan now. She’s a great kid and I wanna be someone she can look up to. If it means sorting out my shit and all my unresolved daddy issues, so be it,” Tony said with a soft determination, head turning to look at the room that Pepper had carried Morgan into.

“You’re a great dad, Tony.”

“Thanks, Steve.”

***

ONE YEAR LATER

“Recovery is not linear. Yesterday you might have felt like you were finally getting yourself together and today may feel like everything is falling apart again. Something that helped you through your last anxiety attack might not work again for your next anxiety attack. And it’s okay. The point is that you keep trying. Every day is a win as long as you keep trying.” Steve finished off his sharing and lingered around the room for another 30 minutes to talk to those who wanted to have a word with him privately.

Everyone in that room was the same. They may have gone through different experiences while serving their country, but they all brought back something they couldn’t shake off. A pain so deep that some couldn’t even speak about it without retching or breaking down into uncontrollable sobs. Everyone in that room was the same. All broken, wanting, needing even, to be made whole again. Or at least to pick up the pieces left of them to glue together something resembling a normal, human life. And Steve was right there with them.

The month after Steve came back, they had set up a press conference to announce that Steve would be retiring, and that Sam would be taking over as the new Captain America. With that out of the way, Steve was essentially free to do whatever he wanted to now. And for the past eight months, he had been doing regular sharings at the VA. It had started out once a week and slowly increased to three times a week. The veterans hadn’t cared that he was Captain America, they cared that he understood. And that if he, the Ultimate Soldier, could learn to leave the battles behind and lead a somewhat normal life now, then so could they.

Every session had taken a toll on Steve, both physically and mentally. Yet, every session he walked out of the VA with the same feeling of gratitude and hope in his heart.

***

Now that Steve was back in his pre-serum body, there was a lot more to take note of, in terms of caring for his own body. He had to wear glasses to correct his astigmatism, wear a hearing aid in one ear, carry an inhaler in his pocket at all times, and take certain medication twice a day for his irregular heartbeat. His stomach ulcers had been the hardest to manage, sometimes flaring up without warning. But Steve made sure he did well to prevent them by eating healthy and taking a lot of probiotics. In the grand scheme of things, Steve was pretty happy. All of his conditions were manageable given modern medicine, and if he had managed to survive 25 years in the 1920s, he didn’t see why he would have a problem now.

Even with all of his conditions under control, Steve still had to give up certain things he enjoyed. One of them had been training the young Avengers that have joined the team over the years. It was hard to train them physically when he was no longer able to spar like he used to. But it hadn’t really mattered all that much anyway because he still got to see the kids when they came by to hang out at the Tower, updating him about their training regimes over boxes of pizza.

Despite not being able to train the Avengers like he used to, Steve had surprisingly continued to work with SHIELD. One of the things that Steve hadn’t lost along with his Captain America body had been his experience as a skilled strategist. He remained one of the best strategists of his time and continued to collaborate with SHIELD, planning for ops and leaving the execution to the SHIELD agents. Recently, Steve had also taken two men under his wing, training and mentoring them to be the future lead strategists at SHIELD.

It hadn’t been a boring way to spend his time. But what Steve enjoyed most of all these days was that he had started drawing and painting again.

Ever since Steve had emerged from Project: Rebirth, he never really picked up his sketchbook again. It wasn’t like he had forgotten how to draw but he had simply lacked the inspiration. Every time he opened up his sketchbook, his mind went blank and the hand that held the pencil had felt far too big. It was large and rough, more suitable for a fist fight than the delicate job of drawing. Hands that felt more at ease holding a shield than a pencil. More concerningly, Steve hasn’t felt like they were _his_ hands.

In all of the twelve years he had spent in his bigger and stronger supersoldier serumed body, Steve never really got used to his body. On good days, he could appreciate that this body had its advantages; no more asthma attacks or stomach ulcers, and he finally had the physical body that matched his ambition to stand up for what he believed in. But some days, it felt like the body itself was the costume that he was forced to wear at all times, pinching and scratching at certain places, stinking of responsibilities that he couldn’t shirk. On really bad days, his large body seemed like dead weight, suffocating Steve with its new found strength. On those days, Steve had clawed at his arms and torso till they bleed, trying to get rid of the sensation that something was crawling beneath his skin. The claw marks never stayed long enough for anyone to notice, angry scratch lines that disappeared without a trace, returning his skin to its previous perfection in a matter of minutes.

These days, Steve had never felt more comfortable in his own body. Sure, it was smaller, weaker, and almost constantly in some kind of pain, either from his scoliosis or stomach ulcers. But the skin-crawling sensation that made him want to rip open his own skin never returned.

Drawing came to Steve easily now that the weight of the world was no longer resting on his shoulders. Whenever inspiration hit, Steve didn’t need to suppress the urge to sketch it out before the moment was gone. He grabbed his sketchbook or whatever he had on hand and simply let the lines flow, his hands taking a life of its own.

Painting was kept for days when he had a large chunk of time to himself, where he could take the time to mix the paints together, transferring what he had visualised in his head onto a blank canvas. His mother had always enjoyed his paintings, seeing as to how she was the one who bought Steve his first set of paintbrushes back in the 1920s. When Sarah Rogers had gotten too sick to leave her bed, Steve had painted the outside world for her and stuck them on the wall in front of her so she could see it anytime she wanted. Now, whenever Steve painted, he had still silently dedicated each piece in memory of his mother, the one who had taught him how to appreciate the beauty in life.

Pushing up his black-rimmed glasses as he leaned back to survey his latest commissioned painting, Steve was hit with a sense of nostalgia and peace. He put his paintbrush down on the floor where he had laid some newspapers (painting was a messy affair) and took a slow look around his apartment. It had been a beautifully furnished apartment before he moved in, the entire place decorated to look like a swanky hotel. But it had been cold, and minimalistic, not a single trace of Steve in any part of the apartment. Over the past year, Steve had swapped out most of the furniture, opting for something with a more vintage look, looking for handmade crafts that had pieces of history attached to them. He had also replaced the nameless art pieces on the walls with his own paintings, hanging up side-by-side comparisons of how the Brooklyn landscape had changed through the years, and the many different places in Brooklyn he had drawn from memory because they weren’t there anymore. There was a slight mess to his apartment, clothes sitting in a pile somewhere on the floor of his bedroom, dishes stacked in the sink when he got too lazy to wash them after a meal, especially when he could be painting instead. But his apartment had looked _lived-in_ , just like the way Sam’s had when he first visited him on the 87th floor. Feeling a deep sense of gratitude and contentment, Steve smiled to himself.

The fight was _finally_ over for Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve lives! And he leads a happy life! When will Marvel understand the concept of retirement?
> 
> In my universe, Tony hadn't sold the Stark Tower so they managed to all move back after the compound was destroyed. 
> 
> Also, Bucky asked for a of cuppa coffee/tea bc I read it helps with asthma when you don't have your inhaler with you. It helps to open your airways or something!
> 
> Lastly, I tried to find the explanation as to why Marvel chose to pass the shield to Sam instead of Bucky and all I found was shit said about how Bucky was easy to corrupt. THE NERVE!!! And since I don't take no shit about my bb boi, I've given my own reasons + Seb's response to why Bucky wasn't given the shield.
> 
> JUST LEFT WITH THE EPILOGUE NOW!


	3. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve needed his painting dammit!

Steve made his way down to the Avenger’s common level, tapping his foot on the elevator floor impatiently. He had an art exhibition at the VA coming up at the end of this week, where he would be displaying a few of his paintings for sale. All proceeds would go to the VA’s latest outreach program, where they would be helping people who had been displaced by the snap find a home again. He was supposed to bring the paintings down to the VA that day and he was already running late. Sam, Natasha, Bucky, Tony and Thor had spent the previous night on the common floor with his paintings spread out on the gigantic dining table, helping Steve to narrow down and decide which paintings made the final cut for the exhibition.

Over the course of the night, their conversation had moved from paintings to general life updates. By the time Sam and Natasha had brought out the beers from the fridge, all talks of the art exhibition had ceased, smoothly transitioning into Thor’s latest developments on New Asgard (he had been working with Valkyrie to stabilize Asgard’s trading ties). Hanging out with the Avengers had always put Steve in a good mood, which was why he had ONE beer last night. But he was now feeling the consequences; slight headache and a dry mouth. He wasn’t exactly hungover, but his body had _definitely_ felt the effects of the alcohol, hence his tardiness this morning.

Steve was gathering all of his paintings on the dining table when he realised one of the paintings they had all collectively agreed on that should definitely be in the exhibition was sitting under Thor’s Mjölnir. _Damn it Thor_ , Steve cussed under his breath as he tried to tug on a corner of his painting. You would think the guy with the hammer no one else could lift would be more careful about where he placed it. It was essentially a permanent paperweight till Thor could remove it for him. But he hadn’t been on the common floor; none of the Avengers had, all of them opting to retire to their own respective apartments after a long night.

Steve glared at the hammer, almost hoping that he could convey his displeasure to the Mjölnir so that it would magically lift itself. Steve just wanted his painting, _dammit_. Staring at the leather strap that hung limply from the handle of the hammer, Steve wondered. He hadn’t been able to lift it when they had all tried, many years ago, at the party which Ultron later rudely interrupted. Not much has changed since then and if anything, Steve had lost most of his strength. But it wasn’t like lifting the Mjölnir was based on strength anyway. _Eh, no harm in trying_ , Steve thought to himself and decided to give it a try anyway. He really needed his painting!

Slotting his right hand through the strap, Steve firmly gripped the handle of the Mjölnir. He took a deep breath… and pulled.

 _Wait, what?_ Steve looked down at his hand, the Mjölnir now a couple of inches off the table. He almost couldn’t believe his eyes. Steve brought it up higher, closer to his face and inspected the hammer in his hand. _Huh, I guess I really am lifting the Mjölnir._

It hadn’t felt heavy like the way the Captain America shield did. He could tell it was weighty but it wasn’t straining his arm to hold it. Steve gave it an experimental swing just out of curiosity and it cut through the air with ease. It was terribly well-balanced.

Anyway, _right, the painting_. Steve quickly reached for the painting that had been stuck under the Mjölnir, right hand still clutching the hammer. He was about to set it down again, on an empty spot on the table, mind you, he was considerate like that, when he heard a gleeful sound from the entrance of the common floor.

Thor was looking right at him, the Mjölnir still in Steve’s hand. “I KNEW IT!” Thor’s voice boomed in the early morning. Steve was slightly shell-shocked but all Thor did was slap him on his back with a wide, admiring smile on his face before he took the hammer from Steve and headed back to the elevator.

And that was it. There had been no pouring rain, no rumbling thunder, no summoning of lightning when Steve wielded the Mjölnir. Just the quiet recognition that Steve Rogers was indeed _worthy_.

END

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to include a scene where Steve lifts the hammer and though this is less dramatic than the canon version, it's still as meaningful bc no matter what, Steve Rogers Is Still Worthy!
> 
> And that's the end! Thank you to everyone who read and I hope you liked it! This is my very first fic and I really put my heart and soul into this. Steve Rogers is such an important character to me and I hope I did his character proud. Please leave a comment if you enjoyed it :)


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